


A Confession

by Phantocat



Series: A Confession/Исповедь [2]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen, Welcome to Sanditon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantocat/pseuds/Phantocat
Summary: Another attempt to bring the main characters to a happy ending. What would happen if a mentally and physically tired traveler knelt in the confessional of Willingden and told his story to the wrong person?
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Series: A Confession/Исповедь [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082840
Comments: 111
Kudos: 144





	1. Element

Four black horses were taking his heart away from Sanditon.

Yesterday's note from Mary, with the single line "Charlotte is leaving tomorrow morning" had plunged a knife into Sidney's heart. After reading the letter, he crumpled it up and threw it into the fireplace, and then wandered like a hunted animal back and forth inside his office. 

The decision came quickly enough, and without a word he saddled his own horse in the stable and left for Sanditon. 

Afraid of being late, he drove the horse all night. Without a clear plan of what to say and what to do. It was vital for him to see HER, and that was all he cared about. See, hear, touch... and say goodbye properly.

But how can you properly say goodbye to the love of your life? There is nothing right in this farewell, and there can be nothing right! Only the pain, the despair, the uncertainty, the anger at himself, the helplessness, and the viscous longing that had enveloped his existence from the moment he had become engaged to Mrs. Campion for his brother's sake. Oh, how he hated himself for it!

He had come all the way from London to say good-bye to HER, but he had melted away again as soon as he saw her sad eyes. I wanted to grab her, hold her close, and never let her go again, just whisper silly endearments and protect her from the horrors of the whole world. It hurt a thousand times more to know that he was the cause of her tears. 

Closing the carriage door was excruciatingly painful, as if he were driving a nail into the coffin of love. He felt like a scoundrel, but he couldn't do anything else. He had nothing to offer her. Any desire to follow the call of the heart was met with an insurmountable obstacle in the form of 80,000 pounds, a debtor's prison for Tom and dishonor for the whole family. He had to let her go and sincerely hope that one day she would forget him and be happy. 

So she left. And never come back. 

The carriage was almost out of sight, and he still stood looking after it, gripping the reins. Then, with a single jerk, he swung himself into the saddle and steered his horse toward the horizon, chasing the carriage again and again. But the distance between them grew and grew, and the tired horse could not keep up with his thoughts and feelings, nor with the four fresh horses. 

He slid wearily off his horse at the Corona and almost kicked the door at the entrance. A bottle of wine promised relief from thoughts and feelings, and he, squeezed in the far corner from prying eyes, began to consciously self-destruct. 

When the crowd in the bar became unbearably large and the crowded crowd did not allow him to immerse himself, he ordered another bottle and went out with it to the sea.   
On the shore, the elements played out. A strong wind was blowing. The storm was beginning. And Sidney Parker was walking unsteadily, bottle in hand, toward the bay. Only there, far away from prying eyes, could he vent all the pain that had accumulated in him over the past months. 

An incredibly cold August for Sanditon, as if someone had taken the heat, light, and summer with them. The roaring waves of the sea in this part of the coast amplified their roar, bouncing off the rocks. And there was something mystical about the whole thing, as if nature itself was reproaching him for his chosen decision, and raging with indignation that he had allowed Charlotte to leave.

He took off his boots and coat and ran into the wind and waves in his clothes. He sank to his knees in despair, digging his fingers into the wet sand. The waves lashed him mercilessly, but he didn't seem to notice them. Salt water trickled down his cheeks, and even he wasn't ready to answer whether it was sea water or tears. 

Soaking wet, he sat down on a rock and sipped the wine from his throat. There was no relief. A fire burned inside. Anger and despair tore at his soul. How did he let this happen? Why did you let her go? Why didn't you propose at the ball? After all, everything would be different now!

"Think, Sidney, think! What would she say now?" he said through gritted teeth, ruffling his hair. "She's always full of ideas and good points. What did I miss?"

He remembered the night they'd searched for Georgiana in London, when only her questions, doubts, and comments had helped them find a way out of a seemingly hopeless situation. Georgiana was saved only because of her. He couldn't have done it alone. If he hadn't found Otis in the Sons of Africa, if he hadn't found out about the debt to Beecroft and the gentleman's foul play, if he hadn't thought that his ward was still in London… He would simply have remained convinced that Georgiana had run off with Otis and would not have prevented the terrible consequences. But what to say now? She came to the rescue! 

It was as if fate had brought them together that night… It was, in fact, the first night they'd spent together… The thought made the blood rush to his temples and he was embarrassed. After Georgiana's miraculous rescue, he had returned to the events of that night many times, but he had never thought of it in that context. Man, Woman, night, Closed carriage… 

He shook his head, pushing away the images that filled his mind. His temples throbbed painfully. He was shivering. And realizing that he was freezing, he hastily put on his coat and pulled on his boots, but his body was already covered with a small shiver. 

He trudged into town, past the Crown, and headed for Trafalgar House.

___

"Mrs. Parker!" Evelyn, the maid, hurried into the drawing-room, almost forgetting to curtsy, "Mrs. Parker, I think Mr. Sidney Parker is ill! The door to the room is open. He's lying on the floor!"

Mary shot a worried glance in her husband's direction as she hurriedly got up and put down her dinner napkin. 

"Tom, is Sidney in Sanditon? I didn't know about it. When did he arrive?" she was already climbing to the top and Tom hurried after her with long strides, taking 2 steps at once. 

"Yes, he arrived about two hours ago. He looked very tired. I barely managed to exchange a few words with him. He went upstairs almost immediately, saying he wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be down for dinner. I was going to check on him after dinner. What could have happened, Mary? Do you think he had a fight with Eliza?

Mary shot him a look of displeasure. How could anyone be so blind? But the stairs were neither the time nor the place for serious conversation, and she turned purposefully in the direction of Sidney's room.

The door was indeed open, and Sidney lay limp on the floor, face down, two feet from the bed. The smell of alcohol oozed from his body, and Mary grimaced, wondering how much he could drink at a time, drowning his grief for Charlotte in wine. She tried to turn him over, but when she hit him on the shoulder, she jerked her hand away: he was terribly hot, and his shirt was soaked through.

"Tom, it's burning! He has a very high fever. And that wet shirt just makes it harder. We need to move him to the bed!"

But Tom didn't seem to understand what was being asked of him, so Mary hurried past him and quickly descended to the middle of the flight of stairs, shouting into the hall:

"Hodges, I need your help right now!"

A footman answered her summons instantly, and they hurried to Sidney's room, where Mary quickly gave instructions to carry Sidney to the bed, change him into dry clothes, and, when the task was done, call her and Evelyn, and run for Dr. Fuchs himself. 

The doctor came very quickly and made a cursory examination of the patient's condition. He eagerly took his pulse, listened to his breathing again and again, and when he raised the thermometer to his tired eyes, his face fell completely. 

"That's too bad, Frau Parker. Very high temperature! More than 40 degrees Celsius! I'm afraid Mr. Parker has a fever from pneumonia. It is important to bring down the temperature. I'll make a decoction. You need to water it as often as possible. But in this state, there's not much you can do about it. He looks strong and healthy, so let's hope that his body is ready to fight the infection. He needs peace and rest. Therefore, I advise you to keep the elder Mr. Parker away from this room, as well as Fraulein Parker, if she happens to be in Sanditon. 

The doctor went down to the kitchen and gave detailed instructions on how often and in what quantity to give Sidney the medicine and the decoction that he had prepared with his own hands. And bowing on the threshold gave advice:

"Frau Parker, I suggest you call your brother's fiancee to Sanditon. Things can go unpredictably. I think Miss will want to help with the treatment, or at least be there to say goodbye if the disease can't be overcome. Yes, and there have been cases in my practice when seriously ill people came to their senses only because there was a native and loving person in the room next to them. Do not deprive the young of this opportunity."

And the doctor went away, and Mary stood in the hall for a while, knowing that it was not Mrs. Campion who was writing to her. 

She went back up to Sidney's room and sent the maid to the kitchen to get the decoction. Then, with motherly care, she straightened his blanket and took his hand, taking his pulse.

"What happened to you, Sidney? Are you so bad that you don't want to live?" there were tears in her eyes. "I understand that I will only cause you both pain, but I must write to Charlotte and summon her here if it will save your life. Please forgive me for this…"

When Evelyn returned to the sick man, Mary gave up her post and went downstairs to compose the letters. Dr. Fuchs is right, she should call Sydney's fiancee from London. But Dr. Fuchs is also right that the presence of a loved one can have a beneficial effect on Sidney's well-being. Well, she would write letters and summon both Mrs. Campion and Charlotte. And I don't care about conventions! Sidney's life is more important!

When she had sealed the envelopes and placed them on the mail tray in the hall, she looked out the window wearily. Outside the window, the elements were raging. Strong wind, slanting rain, thunder. Tomorrow morning, the area will be full of fallen trees and the roads will be washed away. Would it interfere with delivering the mail to Willingden? And would Mr. Heywood let Charlotte go back so soon? 

The fate of the second letter did not concern Mary at all.


	2. Threads of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Sidney is in a fever. The whole house is worried. Mary sent two letters asking for help. Who will respond faster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your interest in this story. You can make guesses and assumptions in the comments

Charlotte did not return to Willingden. She just didn't get there. Tom's carriage, kindly provided to bring her home, once again lost a wheel on the road. Apparently it was never repaired after the unfortunate incident in Willingden almost 4 months ago. Well, Tom is Tom.

After a hard goodbye to Sidney on the cliff, all Charlotte could think about was getting away! To reach the home walls of peaceful Willingden, where nothing happens, as if the silence and regularity of local life were inspired by the spell of oblivion. At home, in the close family circle, in the daily care of her brothers and sisters, she would be able to forget the fire of his eyes, the insistence of his hands, and the tenderness of his kisses. Someday…

The thought of a possible interrupted happiness was almost physically painful. Arms and legs were numb, eyes stung with tears, and chest, which was heaving with sobs, sent a painful wave into stomach.

But, God, how she wanted to turn around now, stop the carriage and run to him! But Charlotte knew only too well that happiness was no longer possible. He sacrificed his own happiness for his family. There was no other way out.

So they parted. And they won't see each other again. As much as she would like to be back in Sanditon one day, she was unlikely to do so. Seeing familiar places or meeting him would be too painful. And trying to stifle her sobs so that the coachman wouldn't hear them, she actually clapped her hands over her mouth, but the floods of tears were flooding back.

Suddenly, the wheel beneath her tilted, and the carriage lurched forward, then toppled over sharply. Charlotte was in the opposite seat and rolled onto her side. It took her a moment to realize what had happened, because her entire world had already been turned upside down. Only the startled neighing of the horses outside the carriage told her that something had changed: the steady thud of hooves was no longer there.

While the coachman calmed the horses, the footman helped her out of the carriage. They were in an open field and there wasn't a soul for miles around. And before they met the carriage from London, they spent 2 hours in the sun.

The footman and the coachman, ensuring the delivery of the guest host back in Sanditon regular crew, assured her that they would find a way to restore the carriage and deliver her box of stuff at Trafalgar house tonight or tomorrow afternoon, depending on the severity of the damage to the crew and the speed of searching a local blacksmith. So Charlotte's plans changed abruptly and, clutching her dressing-case, she was forced to return to Sanditon in a post-chaise.

When the carriage stopped at the hotel, Charlotte got out timidly and looked back at the Parker house. She couldn't go back to Mary: Sidney was probably there by now. It is better for them not to meet and not to reopen the bleeding wounds once again. And she stepped into the Crown, where she ordered a room and dinner delivered to her room with the firm intention of not seeing anyone today.

After entering her room, she almost immediately sank limply on the bed and woke up only at 8 o'clock in the evening, when there was an insistent knock on her room and the dinner ordered earlier was delivered.

Charlotte barely touched her food, picking aimlessly at the dish with her fork. There was no appetite. I didn't want to sleep either. And she stared at the waves for a long time before the darkness outside the window completely swallowed up the sandy beach and the sea surface. The wind picked up. A downpour began. Still she stood at the window and stared into the distance with unseeing eyes. There were no more tears, as if the entire supply of them was now pouring out of the elements outside her window, leaving an incredible feeling of emptiness in her soul. It was only when the first electrical discharges began to appear over the rocks that she wearily extinguished the candle, undressed and slipped under the covers.

As she drifted off to sleep, alarmed by the sound of the rain, she thought again of Sidney: what made her think he was staying at Trafalgar House? What if he was here now, at the Crown, where he had stayed before? What if Sidney was next door? And pulling the blanket over her eyes, she let out a sigh of despair. Would thoughts of him ever leave her mind?

But even in her sleep, her thoughts kept coming back to him. Out of the window, she had dreams of Sidney trying to reach her on the open sea, but the waves were carrying him farther and farther away, toward dangerous rocks, threatening to break his precarious boat on the rocks. Or the dream in which Sidney, shackled, was pulled into the boat on the day of the regatta by Mrs. Campion… And so her awakening was painful.

She awoke to the sound of seagulls and was struck by how just one street separating the hotel from Trafalgar House changed her perception of the world around her so much. The inn was open to all winds, and the night's thunder never disturbed her restless sleep during the night, while her room at Trafalgar House, even in the most violent storms, was a bastion of warmth, comfort and tranquility for her. Today she would undoubtedly have to meet Mary, Tom, and the children when Tom's carriage returned to town. Today, but not now.

It was 6: 30 in the morning when she slipped out of the room for a walk. The storm passed. The air was fresh. Under his feet crunched the sand. The mood improved a little. But she didn't need to walk too long to avoid meeting people she knew: she wasn't ready for small talk today. But on her way back to the hotel, she met the Parkers ' servant on the doorstep, who was on his way to the Crown to send letters.

"Miss Heywood! How glad I am to see you!" And the man's face lit up with a kind smile. "I was just carrying letters to the post office from Mrs. Parker! One of them is for you". He handed her an envelope.

Charlotte gave the usual greetings, and the servant continued on his way to the Crown with the letters. And as she watched him go, Charlotte shook her head in puzzlement: Hodges had always been attentive, so why wasn't he surprised now that Charlotte was here in Sanditon, if he had witnessed her departure yesterday? And why does Hodges look so preoccupied? Did something happen in the house? So Charlotte opened Mary's letter on the street, and then, without going back to her room, rushed to Trafalgar House.

Clutching her hat in the hall, Charlotte took in the absurdity of the situation. The house was probably still asleep. The footman and coachman had not yet returned from yesterday's incident. Hodges was still at the post office. What should she do? And where to run? She took a few unsteady steps into the hallway and almost collided with Mary as she entered.

"My dear Charlotte! I'm so glad you could come." Mary was already holding Charlotte in her arms. "But how did you get here so quickly?"

"Oh, the carriage broke down on the way to Willingden yesterday. I was sent here with a London carriage. I'm staying at a hotel... and I just met Hodges. What happened to Sidney?"

"He's very bad… He has a fever. We bring down the temperature, but he doesn't wake up. Dr. Fuchs says he doesn't hold on to life as if he doesn't want to live. I... I know it's hard for you to be here right now, but it's a matter of life and death… I'm afraid you're the only one who can pull Sidney out of the grave right now"

"I understand," Charlotte said, taking off her coat. "Don't worry about me, Mary. I can handle it. I came to help. But I must leave as soon as he is a little better and the fever has subsided. I don't need him to know I was here" she lowered her eyes and exhaled. "Take me to him… And tell us what the doctor ordered…"

They went upstairs and entered Sidney's bedroom. How strange, the room was very close to the room where she lived. What if he had stayed here during his stay at Sanditon? Then things could have gone differently... or not? Charlotte exhaled again, pushing away the painful thoughts, and entered the room. 

In the room, despite the earlier morning, there was a semi-darkness. The curtains were drawn. A fireplace burned in the corner. There was nothing to breathe. Stuffy. But what was most depressing was the figure lying lifeless on the bed. He was terribly pale and motionless. There was a wheeze with each breath, and she could tell from the wheezing that he was breathing fast, but not deeply. I wanted to rush to him, hug him, touch him, help him. But she couldn't. Not in front of witnesses. So I just stood next to the bed and watched him breathe in silence. 

When the maid once again wanted to change his compress, Charlotte stopped her, saying that she would do it herself. She dipped the cloth in a basin of water, wrung it out, and pressed the wet cloth to his forehead. She slid her hand down his neck and felt for his pulse: despite his unconsciousness, his heart was pounding at a furious rate. 

"What did Dr. Fuchs say? What are the forecasts?"

"Dr. Fuchs says he has pneumonia. The temperature is very high. It's almost 40 now. He's raving and calling… He has a high pulse and a bad cough when he wakes up…"

"How did it happen?" Charlotte shot Mary a quick glance.

"I'm not sure... He passed out in this room last night. He was wearing wet clothes. He must have been caught in the rain. Or ... or swimming in the sea. I don't know! He wasn't sober... and Charlotte, during the fever, he called... you…"

"Yes, miss. At night, he muttered something about the fire and called you again and again, as if he was afraid something would happen to you. I think he's having nightmares."

Still holding her hand on his neck, Charlotte gave Mary a haunted look. 

"Pulse is almost normal," she said. "He's asleep. That's what he needs right now."

She went to the window and opened it a crack, letting in fresh air. A tear rolled down her cheek, and Charlotte knew she'd better not turn around now. She gripped the back of the chair by the window and spoke as briskly and matter-of-factly as she could.:

"Put out the fire. He can't breathe." She said more confidently. "It's already warm enough here. Fresh air is important now. But it is still important to avoid drafts…"

Mary, seeing her confusion, started to say something, but changed her mind. Instead, she took a few hesitant steps toward the door. 

"I'll leave you to it, Charlotte. I need to check on the kids. If you need anything, I'm downstairs. I'll have breakfast brought to you. And bring your things from the hotel to the next room. The doctor will be here in an hour." Mary said, looking back at the doorway. "And ... Evelyn, I need your help..." she said, holding out her hand to the maid and urging her to leave the room. 

"Thank you," Charlotte said, still not turning around.

When she was left alone, she went back to the bed and looked at his face. He was very pale, and his skin had taken on a bluish-ashy hue. His fingers were cold, as if the blood didn't reach his limbs, but his body felt hot. 

She put her hand to his cheek and whispered:

"I'm sorry, Sidney! What happened to you in just one day?" and tears spilled from her eyes.

Her only response was a steady wheeze, but Charlotte was determined to do everything she could to save him and bring him back to life.

When Dr. Fuchs arrived, he took his temperature again and noted the patient's low blood pressure. He listened carefully to Sidney's breathing and wheezing, told Charlotte more about the symptoms and progress of the disease,and prescribed another antipyretic. Heavy sweating that accompanies the disease can worsen the situation, so it is important to change his underwear as often as possible. All that remained was to wait. And to make sure that he rested, so the list of medicines also appeared sleeping pills. The feverish state may last for another 3-4 days, but the temperature will gradually decrease. He'll be back later in the afternoon, but if Sidney gets any worse, feel free to send for him. With that, Dr. Fuchs bowed to the household and left the room. 

The whole house was plunged into gloom. Even the children seemed to accompany their games with hushed voices. And Mary was grateful that Tom, worried about his brother, had taken the children for a walk. 

It had been twenty-four hours since Sidney had been found on the floor, and the temperature still hadn't subsided. Tom knocked timidly and entered the room. 

"My dear, I think we should write a letter to Mrs. Campion about Sidney's condition. Love and care will help him recover as soon as possible."

"Tom, I've already sent a letter to Mrs. Campion in London. I wrote a letter to Charlotte and her yesterday. And I am very glad that by chance Charlotte was brought to Sanditon earlier," and Mary squeezed Charlotte's hand. "I think Mrs. Campion will come as soon as she can."

"Has the carriage returned to Sanditon yet?" Charlotte turned her eyes openly on Tom. "I wrote a letter to my father this morning about the incident to reassure him. And I can stay here until Mrs. Campion arrives to make sure your brother is always looked after."

"Yes," Tom said uncertainly. "We will prepare it in the best possible way for your departure. But I'm afraid it will take another couple of days. I apologize for this unfortunate misunderstanding. And, Charlotte, thank you for your help. I feel helpless when it comes to diseases."

Charlotte smiled gently. "Mr. Parker's fever, according to Dr. Fuchs' prognosis, should be over by now. And I'm glad I can help. Don't worry."

Tom started to say something else, then changed his mind, bowed, and left.

"When do you expect Mrs. Campion to arrive?" Charlotte asked seriously as the door closed behind Tom.

"I don't know. Maybe tomorrow night. Maybe later."

"I'd better leave before she gets back… "

"I don't care what she thinks or says! All I care about is Sidney's recovery! And who, if not you, can help with this?"

"Mary, I…"

"Listen, Charlotte. They're not married! And besides, she has no right to dispose of my house. And I want you to be here. And if she doesn't like it, that's her problem."

But the ladies need not have feared the displeasure of a fashionable lady. It was not until the following evening that Mary received a letter from Eliza saying that she could not come at the moment, and that if Sidney's condition did not change by the end of the week, she would send her London doctor to Sanditon. 

Sidney was breathing a little easier by then. The temperature dropped a little. And Charlotte was ready to go home again tomorrow afternoon.


	3. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Sidney is on the mend, and Charlotte is tossing around in the next room, deciding whether to reveal her presence or not

Sidney's recovery was agonizing. On the third day, when the temperature began to subside, he stopped being given sleeping pills and began to recover more often. His back burned, and he tossed and turned restlessly in bed, trying to ease the pain. It was still hard to breathe. The dry, ragged coughing grew worse, and sometimes the attacks brought him to the point where, in a panic, he thought that he was about to see the lungs in his hands. 

It was especially hard for Charlotte to be in the next room at such times, but not to be able to rush in and help him: he wasn't supposed to know she was in the house. But at night, when the whole house was asleep, Charlotte listened to the noises in the next room and once or twice even caught herself entering his bedroom. Could she go in and check on him if he was sleeping peacefully? What happens if he wakes up?

On the evening of the fourth day, Tom joyfully announced that the carriage was ready and that he could start again tomorrow. He was in high spirits and even tried to joke, although Mary and Charlotte were not in the mood for fun at dinner. 

When everyone had gone to their rooms and Charlotte had checked that everything was packed in her trunk, she leaned her temple against the wall that connected their rooms as usual. 

There was a soft knock on the door. It was Mary. She slipped into Charlotte's room and smiled ruefully.

"He's asleep. He's better. Dr. Fuchs ' treatment helps. I let the maid go and he will sleep unsupervised tonight. If you want to say goodbye" She squeezed Charlotte's hand reassuringly. "I'm very grateful to you, Charlotte, for taking care of him. For me, this is especially valuable. Especially against the background of Mrs. Campion's impersonal letter."

At the mention of Sidney's fiancee's name, Charlotte again felt out of place and unsure, but Mary, noticing this, said soothingly.

"In wealth and in poverty, in sickness and in health… That's what vows sound like, isn't it? How can you talk about a union when these words have an empty meaning for someone? Do you know that Tom did write a letter to Mrs. Campion asking her to come? And knowing Tom, he was obviously exaggerating the description of Sidney's condition. He was sure that Mrs. Campion would come to Sanditon immediately after receiving his letter. But ... Tom also received a polite refusal and a promise to send his doctor. From then on, Tom took it upon himself to write to Mrs. Campion about Sidney's health every day. I've seen these letters. There are just a couple of lines about Sidney's health, and the rest of the pages are devoted to the weather at Sanditon, assurances of better conditions for his brother, and numerous invitations and wishes that Mrs. Campion will be relieved of her troublesome affairs as soon as possible and allow herself to rest at Sanditon. And I'm afraid Mrs. Campion won't pay enough attention to the letters."

A relieved chuckle connected the two ladies ' emotions, saying that they understood each other perfectly.

"But it's too late, my dear. Good night. See you in the morning." Mary closed the door behind her. 

Charlotte sat awake for a long time, staring at the common wall. When the clock struck one in the morning, she got up and walked slowly to his room. In the darkness, she quickly found his bed and sat down on the edge. Peering into his face in the dark, she tried to remember his peaceful features: perhaps this was the last time she would see him. Then she touched her forehead, pushing back a strand of hair, and tried to gauge his temperature, still worried about his health. 

At the touch, he woke up, inhaled, and looked around sleepily, trying to focus his eyes. Charlotte froze as he fixed his eyes on her and said her name dreamily.

"Charlotte," came a soft whisper, and taken aback, she jumped out of bed, trying to get away. If it wasn't for that movement of hers, he might have thought it was just a dream, but the movement proved that someone was in the room. He sat up abruptly on the bed, held out his hand in her direction, and called again.

"Charlotte?"

But she was already backing toward the door, grateful that she wasn't undressed yet, and that her dark brown dress hid her in the dark better than her snow-white nightgown. 

Meanwhile, Sidney threw back the blanket and swung his legs to the left side, trying to stand up. A glance at his feet brought to mind the fact that he was undressed: his shirt was provocatively short for a night out, and he reached for the back of a chair for a robe. This gave Charlotte time to slip out into the dark hallway, carefully closing the door, and head for her room. 

When Sidney put on his robe, the room was already empty. Still certain that he had not dreamed of Charlotte, he left the room in a hurry, but there was no one in the corridor. He looked around and took in the row of doors to the right and left: there was no candle flickering anywhere under the door. And still half asleep and with a foggy head, he tried to remember where the children's and master bedrooms were, and where the guest rooms were.

The room closest to it was the guest room. He didn't know if Charlotte was still there when he arrived, because he was living at the Crown at the time. But he had to try now! 

Sidney went to the room and listened. The room was quiet. He knocked lightly on the door and whispered her name again. There was no response. And he leaned his forehead wearily against the door, but did not dare to turn the handle. Instead, he walked slowly to the stairs and looked down: there he was met by complete darkness. The house was asleep. Perhaps he had dreamed of Charlotte after all. 

On his way back to his room, he paused again at the next door and opened the door. He took two steps into the darkness, trying to make out something in the room. The bed was made. The room was empty. His eyes were already adjusting to the darkness when a bright light lit up the corridor behind him.

"Sidney! What are you doing here?" Mary was walking down the hall with a candle in her hand. Footsteps in the hallway woke her.

"Are you lost? This isn't your room," she said worriedly. "Do you need anything? You can't get up! Dr. Fuchs insists on bed rest!" And she pulled him by the sleeve into the corridor, and then went into the doorway of the room and looked back. Charlotte, pressed against the wall behind the door, looked at her with frightened eyes and shook her head. 

"Go back to your room. I'll get you everything you need," Mary commanded, a little more roughly than she intended. It was obvious that Sidney was confused.

He obediently walked to his door, but stopped on the threshold and looked back uncertainly before going inside. 

Mary went downstairs, made a decoction according to Dr. Fuchs's prescription, and carried it to Sidney's room, finding him sitting sadly on the bed, his back to the door. 

"Sidney, you need to get some sleep. I brought Dr. Fuchs's herbal tea. It will make it a little easier to breathe. Good night." She left his room and slipped to Charlotte's door.

"Charlotte, are you all right?" she whispered inside. 

"Yes," Charlotte said softly, stepping into the light. "He woke up suddenly… I'm afraid he's realized I'm here."

"Perhaps. He was very upset and confused when I found him. He can still be convinced that he was dreaming about you. And in the end, we didn't do anything wrong. Maybe I should tell him the truth."

"I don't know…"

"Well, time will tell. In the meantime, lock the door for the night, Charlotte. He's tired, but I can't guarantee he won't try to sneak in here again when I'm gone" And seeing Charlotte's frightened face, she added. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about. He just wants to make sure he's not crazy. Good night, Charlotte! Lock the door!" And Mary retired to her bedroom.

The next morning Mary sent Evelyn to Sidney's room with firm instructions not to let him out of the room until 9 o'clock in the morning: So Charlotte could have a quiet breakfast, say good-bye, and get into the carriage. 

This time there were no tears. There was a sad sense of doom and guilt that she had stolen time with him without having the right to do so. She would have to forget him. He would have to forget her. And yesterday was the last day they saw each other.

___

In the morning, Sidney was a little resentful of Mary for interrupting his search. If he was healthy, he would definitely explore the next room without delay. But it seemed the servants had received clear instructions not to let him out of the room. And he was forced to spend another 5 days locked up before he was even allowed to go down. 

As soon as his vigilance was relaxed, he wrote and sent a letter to Charlotte. He missed her incredibly and decided to put on paper his beliefs and gratitude for the help in his treatment. There was no reply to the letter. 

After another 5 days, on August 25, at the insistence of the doctor, he was prescribed sun baths and a wicker chair was taken out to the garden to the river, in which he spent 3 hours every day. Covered with a blanket, he looked at the water, read books, dozed, thought. The latter was particularly difficult. Several times he began to read business letters and study papers, but all his thoughts somehow flowed to Charlotte. Where is she now? How is she?" Does she think about him? He closed his eyes and tried to reconstruct her image. Fathomless eyes, unruly curls, soft lips that he had once managed to kiss. The thought of it hurt him, and his already weak body ached mercilessly and could not concentrate.

Today, too, he tried unsuccessfully to read a book. Mary carefully tucked the blanket went into the house for tea about 10 minutes ago. The children were playing behind him, and he could hear them shouting and laughing, but it didn't bother him. He closed the book, placing his finger on the page where he had finished, and closed his eyes. All his thoughts were on Charlotte again, when suddenly a timid child's voice beside him seemed to voice what was in his head:

"I miss Charlotte, Uncle Sidney," Henry said, "And I want her back." His small hand rested on his shoulder. 

"I understand you, Henry," he said hoarsely. "Do you like Charlotte?"

"Yes! She is smart, kind, patient and beautiful. And I'll marry her when I grow up."

"I don't think she'll be free by the time you grow up, Henry," he said with a grin and looked into his nephew's eyes. Henry's face was serious, not at all like the image of a boy his age. Noticing this, Sidney also became serious. "You said that she's beautiful, intelligent, and caring, and I think other men might notice that besides you. I'm afraid there will be many suitors for her hand in marriage."

Henry sighed sadly and made another unexpected speech for a child of his age:

"What a pity… I was so hoping that she would stay and be part of our family" he was about to retire to his sisters when he turned abruptly and said enthusiastically. "But you don't have to wait, Uncle Sidney! You can marry her now! "

"Your uncle has lost the power of speech, Henry. He wasn't prepared for such a responsible request," Mary said, setting the tray of tea and cups down on the table next to him. 

Sidney gave her a sad smile and answered:

"Yes, quite right" He closed his eyes, feigning serenity, but his heart was pounding in his chest at that very moment. How he wished he could! But this morning he had received his letter to her unanswered and was upset. He knew he had no right to write to her, but he couldn't help it. And somewhere on the way to Willingden, there was a second letter from him that would probably also return unanswered. He had failed Charlotte. And whatever his feelings, the path to her was forever blocked by his engagement to Mrs. Campion. How would he get out of this mess? How to break off an engagement, observing decency? How to regain Charlotte's trust?

His thoughts were interrupted by a visitor he had not expected. News of his recovery was already circulating in the city, and Mrs. Griffith felt it necessary to visit him and report on Georgiana's progress. According to the governess, his ward was making progress. The last 2 weeks, she paid special attention to drawing and the plots this time were quite decent. The folder of Georgiana's drawings lay on the coffee table, and the ladies left it when they returned to the house for tea.

He flipped through the numerous landscapes, noting Georgiana's good style and rejoicing in the lighter colors in these drawings compared to the past - it seems that the young heiress's mood has recently improved a little. Then there were pencil sketches of individual objects, hands, portraits, still lifes, and finished aquarelle portraits. He was enjoying the resemblance of the portraits of Arthur, Mary, and the Beaufort sisters, when the next page he turned made him stifle a breath: Charlotte's smiling face was looking down at him from the cardboard sheet. He gently traced her features, admiring and noting the perfect resemblance, even in her eyes. And hearing the voices of Mrs. Griffiths and Mary approaching behind him, and fearing that he might be caught in the act, he put the portrait in his book without thinking twice, and covered it with a blanket. 

After a small talk with Mrs. Griffiths, he praised Georgiana's progress and returned the folder of drawings to her, secretly wanting to get back to his room and get a better look at Charlotte's portrait, but feeling strangely embarrassed and excited that he had stolen a portrait of a girl he had no right to look at.


	4. A heart-to-heart conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Georgiana is a shrewd young lady who has rethought a lot in the last two weeks and now has a slightly different view of her guardian's behavior and actions

When Mrs. Griffiths returned Georgiana's portfolio that evening with a word of approval from Mr. Parker, the young ward was surprisingly well received. The 2 weeks she spent waiting for news about Sidney's health softened her. She finally realized that Sidney was the only person close to her at the moment, and if anything happened, she would be completely alone. There would be no one to take care of her, no one to guide her, no one to protect her from unwanted suitors for her inheritance. And so the news of the recovery of the once-annoying Sidney Parker was a relief to her. 

According to Mrs. Griffiths, the guardian especially praised the watercolour portraits, and Georgiana smiled as she flipped through to this section and looked with a satisfied smile at the portraits of Arthur, Henry, and Mary. She liked these portraits herself – there was something spiritual about them that perhaps all the Parkers had in common - a belief in the best. Mary's blue eyes, looking into the distance, and her light smile, despite the emotionally difficult life next to Tom Parker, Henry's childlike spontaneity and openness, Arthur's friendly smile - all this touched a chord inside Georgiana's soul and made her think about what a family is. And a little envious, since she had been deprived of these natural feelings and attachments for quite some time. 

In the days when she was left to her own devices, she had a lot to rethink, because she could spend her time thinking rather than confronting Sidney or Mrs. Griffiths, even if their demands were reasonable. The abduction, the farewell to Otis, the fire, Miss Denham's wedding, Charlotte's departure, and the imminent end of the season had left her with the thought: what next? So much had happened over the summer months, and yet it hadn't brought her any closer to understanding her purpose in life. What did she want? What do people at her age want anyway? What do girls at her age want? For example, Charlotte?

And Georgiana flipped through several portraits, looking for Charlotte's clear eyes. There was no portrait of Charlotte. Suddenly, a sharp realization dawned on her face. Had the grim Sidney Parker taken her friend's portrait? On the morning before the ball on that ill-fated night of the fire, Charlotte had mentioned what Sidney had said about his best and true self next to her. At that time, Georgiana's rage that everything was not going as she wanted, poured out on her friend in an attempt to denigrate her guardian. Yes, what to hide – she also gave him an interrogation at the ball! But I didn't get an answer! What if Charlotte and Sidney's feelings were mutual? What if the two of them were in the same pain now that she was leaving Otis? Well, she would find out. And in the morning she will visit her guardian herself and will not leave without an answer! And for the first time, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips and the knowledge that something was finally happening in Sanditon. 

The next morning, at the visiting hour, she asked Mrs. Griffiths to take her to Trafalgar House, and stayed there until dinner. 

Sidney was resting by the river. His thin body sat peacefully in a wicker chair, covered with a blanket, and in his hands on his lap lay a book that had been open for a long time on one page. His head was tilted back on the high back of the chair, but judging by his mobile eyelashes, he was not asleep. At the sound of her dress rustling, he opened his eyes and smiled ruefully. Up close, his body looked even more gaunt and pale. He looked older, as if someone or something had sucked the life out of him.

"Georgiana, what a pleasant surprise." And he tried to rise to greet her, but it was obvious that this simple action was not easy for him. 

A quarter of an hour had passed between the formal greetings and the exchange of news, and Georgiana still did not dare to ask the question she had come to ask. There was a clearly exhausted man sitting in front of her, and it was painful to see the brave, strong, self-confident Sidney like this. 

Looking around absently, trying to decide on a topic to discuss, Georgiana noticed two letters on the coffee table. One, packed, lay at the far end of the table, as if it had been carelessly tossed aside, and behind the ornate handwriting, the heiress could make out the sender's name, "Mrs. Campion." The second envelope was evidently eagerly opened, and behind the top sheet, facing the table with the address block, she saw only the envelope addressed to Charlotte. So, he wrote to her, but it looks like the letter was returned. That's the reason for the question! 

"Oh, do you correspond with Charlotte? What does she write? How's she doing? I received the last letter 3 days ago" Georgiana began, and looked at Sidney inquisitively, waiting for an answer. 

"Yes, I wrote to her," Sidney said wearily, covering his eyes with his hand. "But as you can see, the letter has returned." It was excruciatingly embarrassing to admit his failures to a girl in front of whom it was especially important for him to be all-powerful. 

"Why would she return the letter?" Georgiana asked innocently, reaching for the bottom sheet. Sidney didn't mind, though he stared at her, puzzled, trying to find an answer to her words. "But it's not Charlotte's handwriting!" She said in surprise when she saw how the address was written.

"Are you sure?" Sidney's body moved in her direction, and for a moment there was hope in his eyes, but then it was gone. Of course, the letter could have been sent back by her mother. Or father, which is even worse.

"Yes, of course. I know her hand well. This letter was definitely not returned by Charlotte." And with a serious look at Sidney, Georgiana asked an honest question. "Why did you write to Charlotte at all?"

"I... I couldn't help writing." And he sank back into his chair as if he had crawled into his shell. 

"But why? You of all people should understand that by sending letters to an unmarried lady, you are questioning her reputation, " she clearly enjoyed this sarcastic remark and saw how he writhed at her words. 

"It's complicated. I know I shouldn't. But I can't let it go" he spread his hands wearily. There was absolutely no hardness in his eyes. He was just a desperately tired man. "Did you know that I was going to propose to her at the Midsummer ball?"

Miss Lamb was not prepared for such news. She stared at him with wide eyes, speechless, something that hadn't happened to her in quite a while. Before she could find the strength to answer, Sidney, as if anticipating her question, continued:

"We were interrupted. Sir Edward barged into the room in the middle of my proposal, and I had to intervene. Then there was a fire. You know the rest. In the morning I went to London to look for funds to fix Tom's mess and ... lost everything."

"Do you really love her?" she asked softly, looking into his eyes. "It can't be! Wait, so it's true?" Sidney was silent, but his eyes reflected all the pain he felt when he was away from Charlotte. Georgiana dropped her eyes to her lap. Her emotions struggled: anger and compassion.

"Only, if it's true and you love Charlotte, then why did you get engaged to that awful woman?" she was almost shouting as she jumped up from her seat. 

"Calm down, Georgiana. Somebody can hear you. I shouldn't have told you about this at all!" He had jumped up from his chair and was now staggering toward the river.

Knowing how much her words were hurting him, and not wanting him to shut her out again, Georgiana grabbed his blanket from the chair and hurried after him, throwing the blanket over his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Sidney. I'm not restrained. But this news really shocked me. And I really don't understand what made a man in love give up his intention. This… This is so unlike you! After all, you always go to the end! Something really terrible had to happen to get in the way of your intentions. I need to know so I can figure out how to help you and Charlotte, " she was standing right in front of him now, blocking his path and peppering him with questions, but he only seemed to respond to the name. 

He gave her a quick, pained look and then turned away, walking back to his chair with an unsteady step. 

"Tom's debt after the fire was exorbitant and I only had a week to find funds," a voice said from behind him. "I went around every bank, every reliable partner, collecting money bit by bit, but I didn't raise a quarter to repay it. Lady Denham threatened Tom with a debtors ' prison, and Mary and the children with poverty and dishonor. I was desperate. At that moment, Mrs. Campion gave me a helping hand. But as it turned out, not unselfishly. And I was forced to agree to her terms in this deal. And he'd pawned his soul, breaking Charlotte's heart."

"Money! Money again! They don't do any good! Nothing but misery. But to solve the problem, you could have taken them from me! All you had to do was ask! I would be happy to share this unfortunate capital, if only my friend was happy now."

"I couldn't, Georgiana, they're yours. I promised your father…"

"I understand that without my capital, I will lose my position in the eyes of society, but at least this way I can find out who really needs me… Myself, not my poor money" She turned away now, trying to hold back the tears, for the wound Otis had inflicted was still there, and it ached every day, even though she was gradually getting used to the pain.

"What's there to say about it now? What's done is done. Charlotte is lost to me forever. I wish her happiness. I don't deserve it. Even though I desperately love her" he said the last in a whisper, closing his eyes wearily.

"Don't say that! This is all a terrible mistake! You need to break off this shameful engagement and run to her. Before she did something stupid and agreed to marry the first person she met, just to forget you! "

"I can't. It's not that simple. If I am the initiator of the termination – I will be considered unreliable and my reputation will end. No partner in London will make a deal with me. What can I offer her then?" He had jumped out of his chair again and was now pacing the grass. 

"Yourself! What does it matter what they say in London? Go back to Antigua with your beautiful wife and live happily ever after. She will not judge you and will follow you everywhere." Georgiana was approaching him with quick steps, as if she wanted to throw a new challenge in his face, but suddenly stopped, struck by a hunch. "But you're right, it's better to encourage Mrs. Campion to break off the engagement on her own initiative. First you need to delay the date of the wedding. I have an idea. But I have to go to London for that!"

Sidney gave the heiress a worried look, for there was a sly smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Georgiana has a plan on how to confront Mrs. Campion. What do you think it is?


	5. Black Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, patient readers. Our hero decides on a desperate act. Not everything goes smoothly and the way he wants, but the story moves. And in this chapter, we see Sidney and Charlotte again.

Georgiana's words encouraged Sidney and gave her hope. However, the residue from her statement about the possible hasty marriage of Charlotte remained. And that was all he thought about as he stared at her portrait in the solitude of his room. Charlotte is really offended. And she had a right to be angry. Letters were returned without response: today the second letter has already returned, and perhaps the third one will return soon! Yes, he has no right to write to her, but he can't not write. He sighed wearily, ran his fingers over her features on the paper, and lay down on the bed, holding the portrait to his chest with both hands. He had to see her and talk to her! A normal conversation. 

Before blowing out the candle, he carefully placed the portrait in the book and hid the volume deep in the chest of drawers, out of sight. Stop dreaming! It's time to act! He can't get her picture until then, until you meet her in person. He decided so, and he will do it. And gripping the dial, he estimated the time, replaying his plan in his head, and a hard determination appeared in his eyes.

In the morning, he hastily wrote a note with the words "Everything is fine with me. I'll be back for dinner" and still feeling weak, he mounted his horse.

The road to Willingden, which would have taken 5-6 hours at a normal pace, he covered in 8. The weakness still did not pass, and this was the first reason for his delay. But Sidney clung so desperately to his desire to see Charlotte that he put his health on the back burner and drove the horse forward again and again. It was only when he realized that he couldn't grip the reins tightly enough, or that he was no longer able to breathe evenly, that he would slow down and take a break. 

Second, Willingden was not easy to find. He drove for a long time on a flat road along the field before he met the first living person and was able to make sure that he was going in the right direction. 

In any case, Sidney did not arrive at Willingden until 4 o'clock in the afternoon. And in the autumn sun, he caught a glimpse of Charlotte in the distance. Surrounded by her brothers and sisters, she was sad and thoughtful. True concern for her loved ones urged her to be cheerful and not show her grief, but he knew all too well her distracted, thoughtful looks, interrupted in the middle of an action or a flinch of the whole body when one of her brothers or sisters touched her, demanding attention and bringing her out of her reverie – he himself had been like that since the moment of separation.

While the children fussed around her playing outdoor games, she tripled on a picnic blanket with a book in her hands. But she didn't read it, just stared into the distance. Sidney lost track of time, watching her admiringly. It was as if she had grown up: the muted colors in her clothes, the pinned-up hair, and the severe hat made her look like a model young lady, the perfect companion for Georgiana, and the quivering image of the perfect... wife. 

At one point, she seemed to wake up from her reverie and turned her head sharply in his direction, as if sensing something. Hidden by the trees, he rolled abruptly on his back against the trunk of an old oak tree, trying to get completely out of her line of sight. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding. Had she seen him?

Charlotte didn't see him. But I really wanted to be alone and read a little. And turning her head to the left, she caught sight of her favorite grove. This grove on the edge of the estate, hidden from the winds by centuries-old oaks, created a cozy place, like a cradle, and Charlotte loved to read books there from childhood. Even now, unable to concentrate on her reading, she suddenly remembered this secluded place and quickly stood up. 

With a light step, almost skipping, and a book in her hand, she had almost reached the grove when her elder brother called out to her, raising his rifle in the air. 

"Charlotte! I need your help!"

She looked back and waved cheerfully and shouted back:

"All right, I'll be right there, Johnny!" and she cast a regretful glance at the clearing so near. And then, with a resigned sigh, she turned 180 degrees and headed for her brother. 

If Sidney tensed when he heard a man's voice calling her name in the distance, then when he heard her answer 10 paces away, he shrank even further into the tree. After calming his heart rate a little, he decided to look out from his hiding place and now only saw Charlotte's retreating back. She walked over to the tall, slender guy and nonchalantly took the gun from him. Deftly folding the gun in half, she made sure that there were no bullets in it, and then hung the gun in the crook of her arm and grabbed the guy by the elbow and left with him in the direction of the house. As the pair disappeared from sight, a series of gunshots were heard. Always 2, as if someone was competing with someone. 

After a while, the rest of the Heywoods, under the supervision of another pretty girl, gathered and also headed towards the estate. The church bell chimed 5 and Sidney knew he wouldn't see Charlotte again today. He moved reluctantly toward the horse; if it took him that long, he was bound to get a reprimand from Mary. 

He did return to Trafalgar House almost at midnight, and as if a thief were trying to sneak into his room without being seen, he was met in the hall by a worried Mary with a candle.

"Sidney, where have you been? I was terribly worried about you!" she clearly had a fiery speech prepared for him.

"It's all right, Mary," he said awkwardly, moving closer to his brother's wife. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to dinner. The trip took longer than I thought."

"I have no problem with dinner, I'm worried about you, Sidney. You're still too weak! Where did you go?"

There was no response. He just looked at her in disbelief, then turned around and tried to leave.

As if she understood him without words Mary lowered her eyes in embarrassment and said:

"Promise me, Sшdney, that you won't go again until you feel better" 

"I can't!" He spun around. – "I left Mercury at the inn and must return for him tomorrow. Besides, I'll never feel better until..." he paused and rubbed his temples wearily.

"You can send Hodges for the horse tomorrow" Mary said soothingly.

"No, I'll go myself. I have to! Please don't ask me anything Mary. It's too hard. Someday I might be able to tell you, but not now…"

"I understand..." and she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Good night, Sidney. You need to build up your strength"

And Mary disappeared down the stairs. And Sidney went wearily up to his room and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

In the morning, he got up earlier than usual and set off with a firm determination. He changed horses twice on the way, and at the third inn changed to his rested Mercury. In the end, he arrived in Villingen, when there was still 12. He tied up his horse and set off in the direction of yesterday's clearing, from which he had such a good view of the estate and the surrounding countryside, but he stopped abruptly when he saw that Charlotte was there at that hour, reading a book. 

She was lying on her stomach, propping his head with his hands and dangling his legs in the air. The hat was lying beside her, and a fresh breeze played with a stray strand of hair, now and then sending it into Charlotte's eyes. Oh, how he wanted to touch that restless strand of hair and tuck it behind his ear!

Meanwhile, Charlotte turned the page and finished reading the chapter, and then bookmarked the pages, slammed the volume shut, and rolled onto her back, closing her eyes wearily. 

"Does happy love only happen in books?" she said softly, hugging the book. 

Sidney started to move, wanting to be with her and rewrite their history, but at that moment her sister appeared. 

"Charlotte, this came in the morning post!" Alison handed her an envelope.

Charlotte turned it over in her hands, hesitated several times in the direction of the wax seal, thinking to open it, but still handed the letter back to her sister.

"I'm not supposed to read this. This is not correct. He's engaged!" she said, tears glistening in her eyes. She covered her face with her hands, trying to stifle the tears that filled her eyes. 

"But Lottie, maybe things have changed. Is that why he writes to you? And you won't find out…"

"If that were true, he would have been here by now, talking to his father! What do I care about letters and empty promises? Unfulfilled hopes and dreams. Enough! Enough to bother me" Charlotte moaned. "There's nothing to change, and nothing to hope for... Mrs. Campion won't miss her chance. I must forget him! No matter how hard it is... " she took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly, trying to force herself to calm down. Then she got up, walked slowly and hesitantly to a sprawling ancient oak tree, leaned on it as if drawing strength from it, and said more calmly, "And letters do not help in this. So, Ally, send all of Mr. Parker's letters back. Mr. Sidney Parker's letters" she said, and tossed a few mechanically picked acorns into the bushes. 

Sidney stood behind a tree in the bushes, afraid to move, and listened eagerly to every word. How stupid and selfish he is! She's right! How could he be so cruel and hurt her soul with his letters, without being able to offer anything in return. He must resolve the situation and rush personally to her feet as soon as he was free. He must trust her and not give her false hopes. What could he have said in his letters? About feelings? About love? She knows everything! And she doesn't doubt him. Even now, she doesn't blame him and understands what led to this decision. She is infinitely superior! He must do everything to be worthy of her! He had to fix it!

He looked down, embarrassed, and saw one of the acorns he'd tossed her earlier next to the edge of his boot. He stared at the acorn for a moment, and then, when he was sure that Charlotte and her sister were out of sight, he picked it up carefully. This simple grain was worth its weight in gold to him now. A nice souvenir, because SHE kept it! He clenched the acorn in his fist, closed his eyes, and exhaled as if making a promise to himself, then put it in his vest pocket, intending to plant it on his land at Sanditon. 

The feeling of confusion from what he heard and the undermined health made itself felt. He reached Mercury with difficulty, and was about to take hold of the saddle to mount when he realized that he was sick. He looked around and saw the church. There you can find shelter and rest before the road. 

It was an old stone church building with a rural feel. The decoration was simple and solid: nothing superfluous. 

It was a weekday. The lights were already on, but the church was empty. He sat down on a bench in the center of the room and leaned on the back of the bench in front of him. His head was buzzing. And thoughts were out of place. Out of the corner of his ear, he heard the church door open and close, and heavy footsteps moving between the rows toward the altar.

___

In the morning, Mr. Heywood ate breakfast in a close family circle, noting with sadness that Charlotte's eyes were still sad. When asked about her well-being, she invariably replied that everything was fine, but her father's heart felt that she was pining after her return. About something or someone? It's only been two weeks, and maybe she just needs time to get used to their rural life again after the mysterious adventures of the resort town. She made no secret of her adventures, and told her family about many of the exciting events of Sanditon in the evenings, but there was something in her eyes, as if she had kept some of the truth to herself. 

It was a quiet, peaceful day, a day when he could devote himself to business and discuss the improvement of the situation. Walking around the tenants, he went out with one of them into the field, smoking a pipe. The men had already inspected the outbuildings and were satisfied that everything was ready for the winter. When suddenly his younger companion, pointing towards the hill, said:

"That black man again…"

"Yes, it is strange to our seats. It is very rare for strangers to come to Willingden" said Mr. Heywood, his eyes following the dark figure leading the horse towards the church.

"It's not the first time I've seen him in the last few days"

"Really? Interesting" Charlotte's father said. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes, it's exactly the same person. He's not dressed like the rest of us. And I don't remember a single person in the area with such a height and build. He looks more like a visitor from the capital than a farmer. Isn't that right?"

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps he is looking for land in our area, or has lost his way? I'll go in that direction and hope to catch him and find out. Have a nice day, Mr. Morton."

The two men shook hands and went their separate ways.

When Mr. Heywood reached the church, he saw that the horse was tied up, and that the traveller was nowhere to be found. He looked at the horse with an expert eye and saw that it was definitely not a farm horse. A rather tall animal on elegant legs seemed to speak of the wealth of the owner and the desire for beauty. The rider seemed to be in the church. And after a moment's hesitation, Mr. Heywood opened the heavy door and went inside.

The candles were already lit, but there was no sign of the vicar. Curious, he walked slowly between the rows toward the altar, paying attention to the dark, bent figure on the left. The man was definitely young and tall. And definitely not local. His reverence for the pew might have indicated a deep sense of faith, as if he had bowed down to pray, and seemed oblivious to anything or anyone around him. He didn't even move when the heavy door to the church opened and closed. Probably a pilgrim, Mr. Heywood thought, and went to the altar. After paying his respects and lighting a few candles, he thought that he had not been to church for a long time and had not communicated with the reverend. And now was the very moment when he would have liked to hear a healing word that he could have said to Charlotte. So he went to the confessional and sat down in the cab, slammed the door, and waited for the reverend.

Sitting in the darkened room, he turned his thoughts to Charlotte. Her condition and mood bothered his father's heart, but he knew they couldn't talk like they used to. She had secrets since her return from Sanditon. And it looks like heartache. But how to approach such an uncomfortable conversation with her, he did not know. And that was why the vicar's reassuring word was so lacking. He spent-10-15 minutes in thought, when the next door creaked and closed. Waiting for the familiar greeting from the vicar, Mr. Heywood was about to open his mouth when he heard the unfamiliar deep voice of a young man. 

"Reverend, I'm sorry. I haven't been to church in a long time. But the longing of my soul has brought me here today, and I hope to meet a friend behind this partition…"

Mr. Heywood realized that a black stranger had dropped into the pew beside him, and was about to tell him that he was not the vicar, when the man said something that silenced him and made him listen very carefully.

"I ... I can't do without Charlotte… Every day away from her hurts my heart. But the circumstances are against us, and I do not know what to do to correct the situation."

Hearing his daughter's name spoken so tenderly by the stranger, Mr. Heywood forgot how to breathe. He had to find out what was going on, so he bit his tongue before the words of denunciation came out of his mouth. It was wrong to pretend to be a clergyman, but he didn't claim to be a vicar. The stranger seems to have drawn this conclusion himself, so…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what lessons did Sidney learn from his trip? And what will he do next?


	6. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, grab some snacks and wine, get comfortable, and get ready to listen to what Sydney has to say to the "priest" at Willingden Church. You will have to decide whether this man is worthy of your daughter's trust and love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the chapter again and again, because Sidney came out either too tearful or too talkative. It was necessary to find a balance. I hope I made it.

"What's bothering you, my son? Perhaps I can give you some advice and guide you on the right path?" concerned father answered honestly.

"I'm in love with a beautiful girl. She's the best thing that's ever happened in my dark life. It carries light and illuminates the way for others. Next to her, it's only getting better. She is strict when necessary, sometimes stubborn, incredibly intelligent, friendly and compassionate…"

"Was it mutual?" father asked warily.

"Yes... I think so," Sidney said, confused. "We never really talked about our feelings, but I could read trust, tenderness, and ... love in her eyes"

"Kindred spirits feel each other without words. If you are sure that this is a worthy girl, then what is the reason for your confusion?"

"The problem is, despite all these wonderful feelings, I was forced to get engaged to someone else in order to save my brother's family. The situation was hopeless. The debt is immeasurably great. Lenders beat the thresholds, banks refused to extend the loan, and I had only a week to decide… I agreed to the marriage, and now I feel like I made a deal with the devil. I sold my soul out of a sense of duty, and I know I did the right thing. But I can't bear the thought of being away from someone my heart truly yearns for. But I hurt her with my decision. I have no excuse. But ironically, this decision was made only because she would not accept any half measures and sincerely wanted to unravel the situation around my brother's family. I feel like I'm at a crossroads right now, and I'm torn apart. Part of me wants to be a decent person and keep my word. But my heart is thinking of something else, not wanting to live away from Charlotte. What can I do, Holy Father, if I know perfectly well that I can't get both at the same time?"

"I think there is a more complicated story behind your words. Did you give ambiguous hints to the girl you're talking about? Are you sure that your feelings for her are deep? That it's not just a passion?"

"I'm sure. I've never felt anything like this before. With her gone, I lost a part of myself. As for the hints... they weren't ambiguous. I sincerely wanted to propose to her at the summer ball, but we were rudely interrupted. And then there was a fire and I just didn't have the chance to do it. I went to London to solve the problem of securing Tom and there was no way back for me…"

"It is the duty of every person to help his neighbor. And who can be closer than a brother?"

"Maybe you're right. But it is not so easy to roll back to the roots and return to the abyss of despair, when I saw my true purpose and felt so close to the possibility of a happy life.

You know, until a few months ago, I was living a pretty empty life. And as busy as possible with everyday affairs, I did everything just not to feel that time was slipping away from me and life was passing by. I was developing my business. Import and export. He took care of his team and staff. And that was the best part of my day, because I knew that at least it made sense. The business allowed me not only to save a fortune and stay on my feet, but also to support hundreds of families in the area, from dockworkers to ship captains. But the evenings were unbearable. Cards, horse races, boxing fights, betting, or balls, salons, dinner parties, theaters, and so on. I don't know which is worse. And there, and there I appeared not by the movement of the soul, but because it is necessary.

The expansion of business relations in London circles is inevitably connected with the interests of the nobility. You're either your own man or a stranger without a shred of trust. Either you earn credibility, or you will never get profitable contracts. In all this turmoil, it was difficult to maintain common sense and a pure soul, and the vulnerable boy I was many years ago in the eyes of my parents, gradually melted away before my eyes.

I was left without parents at an early age, and all I wanted after their death was to create my own family and build a harmonious relationship in it in the image and likeness of the one where I was lucky enough to be born. But I was too young and too hot when I faced my first love and my first betrayal. Having successfully studied science in a closed school, I had minimal contact with women under the age of 18. Only her mother, her sister, her rare friends at parties during the summer months, and her neighbors.

I'm the second son. My older brother, Tom, was to inherit the family lands and homes, and maintain and preserve the Parker name for future generations" Mr. Heywood shifted on the bench at the name. So the stranger behind the partition was the brother of the man with whom his daughter was staying. It was a great success for Mr. Heywood to determine his identity, since the stranger might not have introduced himself during the confessional. But Tom Parker's brother was already going on.

"I knew from childhood that I, as a second brother, had to find my own way. Commerce, the navy, the laws, or the church. It always seemed to me that there was still plenty of time to choose. But I tried as much as possible to prepare for the future and to comprehend all kinds of sciences that can be useful to me in any of these areas. And I spent more time reading books than at social events. In the end, I ended up completely unprepared for real life and with only two real friends — Lord Babington and Crowe.

My first prom after graduation seemed grand. The brilliance of society overwhelmed me. But I was even more captivated by the beautiful girl. I've never seen anything like it. His appearance, his manners, his intelligence, everything seemed to be perfect. She was happy with my attentions and two months later we got engaged. It seemed to me that I was the happiest person in the world and years of a happy, easy family life were waiting for me, but my ghostly dreams collided with a cruel reality.

Died down a gala dinner in honor of the engagement. The wedding date has not yet been set. And Eliza's whim to go to Paris to make a wedding dress seemed to me a sweet, innocent diversion. I was glad to see my fiancee happy on the deck of a ship leaving for France. She waved sweetly and blew me kisses. However, she never returned, having met a rich textile industrialist in Paris or on a ship. And I spent three sleepless weeks in the dark, worrying and scolding the mail. After that, he received only a brief note about her return and the cancellation of the engagement. One line. And a week later she became Mr. Campion's wife by special license"

"А special license?" Mr. Heywood asked, puzzled, trying to figure out how this could have happened. "She was compromised and couldn't have been otherwise?"

"No, Father, don't think too badly of her" Sidney replied with a grin. He could take these questions calmly now, although if someone had hinted at it to him a few years ago, he would definitely have gotten into a fight. The question of the urgency of the marriage could well have been asked by a clergyman, who was supposed to take care of the purity of the soul and thoughts. "Although I admit that I had similar thoughts, which made the breakup even more painful. Their marriage never produced any children. Especially in the first months. But at that moment, I was justifying her and angry at her family, believing that she was forced to marry under pressure. And for a few weeks after her wedding, I drank myself into the trash, with or without friends, until I was exhausted. I was desperate. And I would have stayed there if two important events in my life hadn't happened"

"What happened... my son?" Charlotte's father asked automatically.

"First, I saw Eliza on a walk in the park. For me, the day was just ending and I was driving home, and for her, it was a refreshing morning walk. At that moment, I thought that it was as if we belonged to different worlds. She was glowing, smiling, holding her solid husband's arm, and she didn't look like a prisoner at all. It was only then that I realized that getting married was her own decision. No one forced her to. She made her own choice. And she chose wealth, comfort, comfort, and an aging man next to her. That morning I realized how wrong I had been about her. I didn't recognize her! I was angry! And in a rush, he shouted her name from the carriage. But before my friends could stop me from shouting something else, I could see the nervous turn of her head and the horror in her eyes.

I seemed to recognize her true nature at that moment, and the indignation that spread through my body should have helped me forget her. I was really on my way to it. For almost a week, I would be sober, calm, and determined to forget her. But by the weekend, I decided to accept an invitation to a social event. And I met her again.

She looked at me with her big, wide eyes, and I could see sadness, sadness, and longing in them. She apologized to me in a secluded alcove, holding my hand gently almost at the level of my heart, and running her small fingers over mine. And there was pain and longing and a little resentment in her voice at the same time, as if I was the reason for it, and I was the one who made her back off and cancel the engagement, forcing her to marry someone else. In her speech there were many words "duty", "must", "choice", "need", "wait", "confidence", "place", and not a word about love, feelings and affection. But I wanted to believe her so much!

And then she put on an artificial smile, waved her fan, and gracefully walked out into the hall to play her part. At that moment, I was confused, and I didn't know where the truth was and where the lie was. What to believe? Was she playing with me as she was now trying to put on a show in front of the whole world? Or was she really deeply unhappy, but she was doing what was expected of her and trying her best to keep her face straight? Well, she followed her husband up the social ladder, and soon we would rarely meet in the same company. But I got drunk that night. And then another, and another, and another.

Tell me, Father, have you ever experienced such a feeling? Uncertainty? Treachery?"

"Yes, my son. I have experienced all the frustration that a man gets from the rejection of the woman he loves. I still remember plowing through the snow — covered field again and again" Mr. Heywood said, and bit his tongue, realizing that he had blurted it out. But Sidney was not up to the nuances, and he continued his story.

"Yes, it was the same with me. I hated myself, even though I couldn't decide why. For not being worthy of Eliza, or for believing her? I drank, smoked, lost at cards, participated in underground fights. And he could disappear from the world in a month or two… But then fate intervened for the second time in my miserable life. My brother Tom came to London to shake me up. He reminded me of the important values in life, quoted a couple of my father's advice, paid my debts, and sent me to the new world in search of a better life. Away from London, away from the woman who had caused me so much grief.

Tom's attempts to play the role of the father at that moment failed: I didn't care what happened to me next. But suddenly Tom told me that he and his wife were expecting their first child, and that they would need Uncle Sidney's help in the future. And I gave up. And I agreed to at least try. So I boarded the ship, clutching a couple of letters to my father's old business associates, and pretty soon I was on the sands of Antigua.

The change of location did bring some relief, but not for long. The filth, debauchery, and misery of this island reminded me too much of the world I had left. Though without fine clothes and refreshing wines, without ornate social conversations and without various perfumes, everything here was subject to the same vice — money and greed for profit.

I saw injustice, I saw slavery, but at first I didn't even feel strong enough to intervene and stop it. I just froze, trying to grasp the rules of the game. It was only my mentor who opened my eyes and guided me to the right path, and as if under the supervision of a father, I once again revived my spirit and found the strength to fight.

And once in these wild conditions, I finally began to understand the rules of high society hunting in London. And he accepted them, even though he always tried to be detached, not involved and looking at everything from the outside. Surprisingly, my aversion to the rules and regulations was perceived as arrogance, arrogance for authority, and so I imperceptibly gained wide popularity and trust in high circles"

"Have you ever been involved in slavery? Did you make money on it? Spilled someone's blood? And this caused respect in the eyes of the world?" Mr. Heawood asked warily.

"No, never!" an indignant voice was heard. "But to my shame, I did not prevent others from doing this for a very long time. And it must have been two years before George Lamb and I were able to extend the idea of free plantation work to neighboring regions. He did buy slaves, but only to secure their freedom. As soon as the papers were signed, he broke their shackles and invited them to make their own decisions. Are they willing to work on his land for a fee, or would they rather go their own way? Many agreed and lived happily, arranging their lives. But some of the planters didn't like us. We were threatened. They tried to set fire to houses and buildings, plantations, crops. But they did not take into account one thing — free people who have seen slavery are ready to stand for their right to freedom.  
So it was with me. Only in my case, I was not struggling with slavery, but with the dependence on love. Completely disappointed by the female duplicity, I dressed my heart in armor and was ready to fend off any blows, carefully guarding my heart from Cupid's arrows. I apologize for the analogies, Father! Perhaps the appeal to ancient myths and legends is inappropriate in the church?"

"No, it's all right. I know what you mean. Go ahead"

"I stayed in Antigua for almost 6 years and was quite happy with life there. But more and more I felt homesick. Although, what could I miss, since I no longer had a real home? You can't bring back your childhood. In any case, one day I received a letter from my brother, where he told me the happy news that his wife was expecting a child again. They already had two children. Two charming nieces I've never seen or met. And the third one is on the way. I realized that it was time to go back and start taking part in the life of the only family I would ever have.

And I got back just in time to celebrate the birth of my nephew. The Heir To The Parkers. And a ray of light in my lonely life. I became attached to Henry in a special way. And every time I watched him in the cradle, I thought about what it would be like to have my own children, my own family. But I knew all too well that this was hardly possible for me.

Sanditon is a small town. A former fishing village, from which my impressionable brother aspired to make a popular seaside resort. It was a place that tormented me, for away from London and its conventions I grew softer, and the armor on my heart was covered with rust. And looking at Henry growing up peacefully and his nieces running around beside me, I knew that I was losing control and dreaming about my family. Something had to be done about it. So I went to London, making as few visits to Sanditon as possible, and for as short a time as possible, so that my heart might not thaw in the warm atmosphere of home.

And I was able to do it. Almost 3 years. I lived and worked in London, regaining all my old connections and building up new ones. My trade flourished, and the hard work of George Lamb's honest workers provided me with truly high-quality goods from the plantations: cotton, tobacco, coffee, tea, and much more. I settled down well in London and put my heart back in its armor, secretly laughing at the matrons at balls and receptions who artlessly tried to charm me for their daughters. I wasn't receptive to them. And he reveled in his freedom and independence, trusting no one and not wanting to take care of anyone"

Sidney gave a short laugh, remembering what happened next.

"But fate decreed otherwise" he continued with warmth in his voice. "My friend and mentor, George Lamb, has died, leaving me in charge of his minor daughter, Georgiana. And this again confused all my plans. I brought her to London from Antigua to be looked after and to get used to being part of London society, as her father wanted her to be. But all this was greatly complicated by the prejudices of society, because Georgiana is not quite a typical heiress. She... her mother was a slave ... and although she was born in a happy legal marriage, her exotic appearance causes a lot of gossip and people who do not know her history, do not think it in favor of the young lady. All these sidelong glances and condescending attitudes further embittered Georgiana. She felt like a stranger. And she dealt with it in her own way. Her flighty nature has frustrated all my endeavors. She ignored prohibitions and instructions, was rude and impertinent on any occasion, and went beyond the bounds of decency. I saw that I must take her away from London to a quieter place, and arranged for her and her governess to move to Sanditon"

"That is commendable, my son. Caring for a neighbor who is not part of the family circle says a lot about a person"

"Thank you for your kind words, but I don't deserve them. Yes, I am the guardian of Miss Lamb, and for a long time my concerns have been limited to her domestic comfort, sufficient education, and introducing her to the circle of decent people, because her solid state can attract not honest people. I was not close to her, and in fact left her alone with her problems, her rejection of society, and her almost complete lack of an equal circle of friends. I'm ashamed to admit it now, but there was a time when I thought I was doing my best for my ward. But only Charlotte managed to open my eyes"

"The girl you're in love with?" "Mr. Heywood knew he was playing dirty, but he had to bring the story back to his daughter. 

"Yes," and there was a note of tenderness in her voice. "Charlotte" Sidney breathed out the name.

"How did you meet? Did you have feelings from the beginning?"

"No!" Sidney chuckled. "Actually, the meeting was rather awkward. I met her at the entrance to the city. She accompanied my sister-in-law, Mary, to a local grand dame. I took her for a new maid, and did not fail to say so. The moment of acquaintance was crumpled and further contact was spoiled by the memory of it.

The second time I met her was at a ball. It was probably her first ball, and she was clearly uncomfortable, even though she looked amazing. Called by my brother to entertain the local guests, I invited her to dance and was pleasantly surprised by her unusual questions. It seemed like she really wanted to get to the bottom of things. She was not interested in the chandeliers, dresses, music, maps, weather, and other things that so often saturate the idle conversations of young ladies. She challenged me every step of the way! And I wondered how a girl so young could know more about the world than I did, a person who had lived longer and had been around a lot. And I was confused and equally uncomfortable to look at her intelligent eyes and her cleavage. I felt overwhelmed…"

At the mention of his daughter's cleavage, Mr. Heywood glared at the carved partition, but as the man put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples wearily, he realized that in this case he had already been punished.

Sidney went on to tell her about their argument on the balcony, her attempt to apologize on the morning of the construction site, his defensive reaction, and the even more complicated relationship between them. He tried to avoid it, but it appeared to him again and again in the most unexpected places. He did not mention the bay in detail, but Mr. Heywood did not count the peculiarities of the wanderer's voice, which was suddenly hoarse on the word. He told her about her budding friendship with his ward and how her almost childish prank in a parody had killed off his growing feelings. He told her about his outburst at her for insulting words. He could no longer control his emotions around her and longed to get out of this city and never come back. But then there was the cricket and the newly ruined plans to leave town before the end of the season.

Sidney did not miss the story of Georgiana's abduction, but rather detailed the facts about what had happened, about all the conditions of the missing person and the search. He told her how his heart was beating wildly when he recognized her as the girl who had just been rescued from an attack on the streets of London. Contrary to common sense, she was in London at her own risk! Strong, brave, selfless. He argued with her in the carriage, but at the same time he thought how exciting it was to be the friend of such a woman who would stop at nothing. And at that moment, he wished he could be considered her friend. And then I realized that I didn't want to be just a friend. And since that night's carriage ride, the thought had never left him. And then there was the London ball, the regatta, the Sanditon ball, when he knew he was sure and ready.

And then only a bright flame and then-darkness, because the fire took away from him the happiness of his life. He is engaged to the same woman who chose another man over him 10 years ago. She holds him in an iron grip and tries to force a husband out of him in the image and likeness of a mass of faceless London husbands. Submissive, predictable, outwardly brilliant, but soulless. And he is so stifled in her company that he is ready to run to the other side of the world, just to postpone the wedding day. Not to mention a stifling marriage, which he can already imagine with a shudder. What to do? And is it possible to somehow get out of this situation?

"You must find another way to pay off your brother's debt, or to say goodbye to the love of your life forever," Mr. Heywood replied simply, as if it were the easiest choice in life.

There was a silence behind the partition, and Mr. Heywood went on.

"How serious is your brother's debt that you should take such a desperate step?"

"80,000 pounds" This time, Mr. Heywood paused in a dejected manner, realizing that this was indeed a good reason to break his daughter's heart.

"Well, the love of my... lady will not help you to cover this debt…"

"Believe me, her love is priceless. I must find a way to pay off the debt and break off the shameful engagement!"

"Then do it! And prove to her the firmness of your intentions. What could be stronger than the desire to make her his wife? Even if it means crossing the border?"

"I admit it occurred to me to take her to Gretna Green. But I couldn't do that to her! Her family and reputation are important to her. She would have hated me. Not immediately, but eventually. I'm not willing to risk her name and I want to do everything right and legally before I can call her my wife. And I'm surprised to hear such a suggestion from a priest" Sidney said more deliberately.

"Don't worry, I'm just testing your firmness and discretion. I am glad that you honor the traditions and strive to do everything right. I wish you to achieve your goal and not meet new obstacles on your way. But the solution to the problem will depend only on you and your willingness to overcome obstacles"

"Thank you, I appreciate your trust. And I will try to be a person worthy of Charlotte's love. Thank you for your time and responsiveness. Our conversation helped me. I am convinced that I will find the strength to fight for our love" Sidney got up and opened the confessional door, but paused on the threshold.

"Father, what has become of the woman who denied you your youth? Did you follow her fate in the future?"

"Oh, yes. And so it was. I followed her. And I've been following it for the last 23 years. She became my wife after all, when she realized that my feelings were deep and reliable, and not as windy as a summer day. Not everything in our life is successful from the very beginning, but only hard work in the right direction gives such a long-awaited reward"

"I suppose you're right"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, is £ 80,000 a worthy reason to break a daughter's heart in this particular situation in Mr Heywood's eyes? Or is our guy not trustworthy and a caring father should lock his daughter in the basement and never let her out, protecting her from Sidney?


	7. Thorns and roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, after a frank conversation, Sidney returns to Sanditon, full of intentions to earn happiness with Charlotte. While Mr. Hewood is worried about the same thoughts.

Mr. Heywood's weary footsteps in the hall indicated his presence. 

"Dad! Where have you been? Are you all right?" You stayed longer than usual. John and Martin are out looking for you!" Charlotte bustled around him, flustered, helping him pull off his coat. 

"Don't worry, my dear. I was just in the church. There I met a traveler who had stopped in the chapel to rest. And we talked a little."

Charlotte was clearly confused and for a moment speechless, but quickly came to her senses: you can not take any passerby for Sidney!

"It's so unusual for someone else to visit Willingden. Come to the fire and tell me more about it, Dad"

"There's nothing to tell. So, idle talk. Besides, he's already gone"

"Who left?" John's voice came from the doorway.

"Dad met a stranger in the church."

"Yes, there's nothing to worry about. Like I said, he's already gone."

"I also saw a strange man in the neighborhood yesterday. He roamed the hills."

"I don't think it was the same man, John. This one was solid and had a fine black horse. But the man himself looked haggard, as if he wasn't quite well."

Charlotte's heart sank. Sidney? Could he have decided to go on horseback, even though his health was not yet fully restored? Of course he could! And the fact that the horse was black did not help to deny this possibility. She remembered Mercury, who had caught up with her on the cliff. And his smooth, silky coat had never been brushed by her in the stable when she went out to relax during the days of Sidney's care. 

"This is all the more strange," John continued. "Two strangers in Willingden in two days. When was the last time this happened? What drew them here? He was clearly intrigued. 

Charlotte glanced at the mail rack. There were no more emails to send. So the third letter is already on the way back to Sanditon. How cruel of her to send his letters back. And she bit her lower lip involuntarily, showing her dismay, but only two people noticed the gesture that gave Charlotte away. 

Father, looking at Charlotte, made a difficult decision for himself. In the first, Charlotte must not know that it was Sidney who was here in Willingden. Secondly, he will do everything possible to help solve Sidney Parker's problems by contacting his friends. 

He really liked Sidney Parker. And the father's heart ached now, not only for his daughter, but for this broken man. Now that he was convinced that his daughter was deep in emotion, and that this was not a momentary weakness in the face of Sidney Parker's proud profile and stately figure, and that Charlotte's eyes hid genuine concern, he knew that the only right and good ending to this story would be a wedding. So he waved his son away from further discussion of the stranger in Willingden and invited them all to the table.

As the family sat down to eat, Alison grabbed Charlotte's hand:

"Lottie, you look strange. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing. Just tell me, where is the letter from Sidney Parker that arrived today?"

"He's already been sent back." Alison said, confused. 

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Is something wrong, Lottie?" Have you changed your mind?"

"No, Ally. But I fear that sending the letters back to Sanditon provoked Sidney to come to Willingden himself. It was quite possible that the man my father was talking about was Sidney. He was still weak from his illness, and yet he could take a desperate step. And now I'm worried about his health… What if he gets worse? And all because I couldn't find the strength to read his letters!

"Shhh… We'll discuss this later in our room. In the meantime, calm down and don't show it. Otherwise, the father will never tell the details about the stranger he met."

But the father, having made up his mind, did not return to the stranger in the church, and for the rest of the evening the family discussed anything but the reason for the appearance of a new person in their town. So Charlotte and Alison returned to the bedroom in complete ignorance, and could only wonder who this mysterious man was. 

Charlotte's fears for Sidney's health were mixed with resentment at such a reckless act, and with a tenderness that reflected their mutual attraction to each other. And she asked Alison again and again how she would react to this. To give in to the feeling (of course, within the bounds of decency)? Or do you stick to the line you originally selected and try to minimize the points of contact with it, so that you can forget it faster? To this Alison, who had never felt anything like it, could not find an answer. All her knowledge was limited to novels, where a knight in shining armor would certainly crush all obstacles in his path and free the cherished princess. But in this particular case, Charlotte didn't have to escape the dragon. The dragon threatened and restrained the knight himself. He was bound by the chains of word, duty, responsibility, and obligation. And in these circumstances, he could not raise his sword to protect Charlotte, who sat alone in a high tower far from London, mesmerized by the sunset and returning the carrier pigeons on their way back. All this Alison poured out to her sister in the images available to her, and now there were tears in Charlotte's eyes. The situation looked very different from the outside.

"So you think I should have read the letters and trusted him, Ally?"

"I believe that only you can answer this question. How strong are your feelings? And how much do you trust him? I understand that the situation is complicated, but if even after you leave, he can't help but write to you, it means something, right?"

The letter that had been sent could never be returned, but the sisters had agreed that if the letter from Sidney Parker came again, Charlotte would find the strength to read it and perhaps even respond.

While the sisters were upstairs talking of high feelings, Mr. Heywood was below engaged in more mundane matters. He looked sadly around the empty, cramped living room, pausing in his eldest daughter's usual place,and thought. The day when his children would leave home seemed so far away. But his second son, Nicholas, has expressed a desire to become a sailor and will soon leave home to go to school. And sweet Charlotte grew up and fell in love. When did all this happen? How did they grow so fast?

But if Nicholas chose his own path as a second son and could choose the path to provide for himself, then the father was responsible for Charlotte's well-being. He must make sure that his beloved daughter is settled and happy. Mr. Sidney Parker seemed a worthy man who was immensely attracted to his daughter. But his circumstances were complex and intractable. And so it is necessary to act quietly and carefully in order to maintain balance and decency, in case it is still not possible to solve his problems. Charlotte must not be compromised in any way! After all, her reputation can both help and harm the rest of the Heywood girls. 

Well, he would write a letter to his solicitor in London to find out the status of the accounts and his investments, which he had not touched since their marriage for more than 20 years. On the basis of these data, he must determine how much of the state, not involved in the turnover of the farm, can be allocated for the dowry of 7 daughters and in what amount, given that the youngest daughter was now not even five. And then Mr. Heywood will decide how to dispose of the rest of the money and whether it will be enough to invest in Sanditon. And most importantly, it is necessary to make inquiries in business circles about the very figure of the mysterious Mr. Parker. What is his reputation in the eyes of decent and respected people?

With that in mind, Mr. Heywood headed for his office, trying to stifle the guilt that he hadn't revealed his real name to Sidney Parker. But would a man be completely honest with him then? No, it is better to learn all the details and judge the person with an open mind and independently. And although he would have to apologize to Sidney for the deception if he succeeded, that moment would not come soon. So don't worry about it. For now.

And while Mr. Heywood was thinking about his daughter's mysterious suitor, Sidney Parker was driving up to Trafalgar House. It was late, and the children were already asleep. Dinner passed without him again, but the candles were still burning in the living room. And thinking to find Tom in the drawing-room to have a silent drink in his company by the fire, he was surprised to find only Mary alone in the drawing-room. And from the relaxed smile that his arrival brought, he knew that she had been waiting for him, motherly and anxious for his safe return.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I don't have time for dinner." He put his arm around his sister-in-law and walked to the fireplace, trying to avoid her gaze. 

"It's all right, Sidney. I didn't expect you so soon. So... how did it go?" she asked impatiently. "Did you manage to talk?"

"No," and Sidney lowered his head in embarrassment, shooting Mary a mysterious look. "But this trip wasn't in vain. I've rethought a lot and now I know how to proceed."

"So you'll ... back off?" Mary asked sadly, her voice suddenly sinking, fearing that Sidney was tired of trying to be disembodied and would marry Mrs. Campion without a murmur. 

"No, of course not! This trip, on the contrary, gave me the determination to fix everything. But now I understand that I must show my intentions by deeds, not by words. The trip to Willingden really helped me, Mary."

And Mary was glad to hear it. Her heart ached for this pair of wonderful, loving, and drawn-together people, whom she already considered her entire family. And it hurt that they had to sacrifice their future to keep things the same in her life. Now that Sidney has finally admitted his feelings, she will be a great adviser and friend to him. And by keeping in touch with Charlotte, make sure that the other party does not lose hope. 

And when, two days later, the children wrote letters to Charlotte in unison, she would look slyly at Sidney, who sat in a deep chair, as if shut off from the outside world, but always froze and shuddered when the children mentioned Charlotte. 

"Sidney, help Henry and the girls seal the letters," Mary said, cradling James in her arms.

Always responsive to Mary's requests, Sidney put down his book and walked over to the table. The nieces ' letters were filled with sweet endearments to Charlotte, and he read their guileless girlish secrets with a smile on his face. Henry's letter, on the other hand, was shorter and sterner. And although the words were not yet easy for him, they were written in simple large block letters, the text of it touched Uncle Sidney even more and stabbed him to the heart.

"Dear Charlotte,

I hope you're doing well. I miss you. My sisters don't know how to build sand castles and launch boats like you do. 

Uncle Sidney is sad, too. So much so that he even got sick. But he's better now. I hope you'll come and play with us soon. So that you wouldn't have to leave, I asked Uncle Sidney to marry you. And I think he doesn't mind. 

Henry»

And after making sure that everyone was busy and not paying attention to him, Sidney picked up his pen and wrote only one sentence at the end of his nephew's letter and signed it S.P. And then skillfully folded the letter and sealed it with sealing wax with the Parker family seal. 

"Henry, the envelope is ready! It remains only to write the address. Can you handle it?" He scooped the boy up on his lap and handed him the quill, watching the letters dance slowly and unevenly under his hand. He was so engrossed in watching Henry's letters that he did not notice that Mary, looking at his reddened ears and involuntary smile, was already making guesses about the contents of the Trojan horse that Henry was preparing for shipment. Well, so far everything had gone according to her plan. And Mary was pleased. 

After 3 days, the letters reached Willingden. And when Alison happily ran up to Charlotte with a stack of letters from Sanditon, Charlotte excitedly began sorting through the envelopes. Annoyingly, there was no new letter from Sidney. But the joy of receiving letters from the Parker children and from Mary that afternoon quickly eased the emptiness in his chest. 

Charlotte began enthusiastically unfolding the children's messages, touching their contents to the point of tears. Only by deploying a letter to Henry, she saw another smooth, strong and beautiful handwriting that says, "From the mouths of babes shall come the truth" and the signature "S.P.". A letter with a smile on his lips, had to re-read a few times and each time the warmth and gratitude more and more flowed through her body. Well, he'd found a way to deliver her message, despite her triple rejection. Maybe he can find a way out of another annoying situation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ladies, is sending a Trojan horse a weakness or a strength for Sidney?


	8. The heart in the cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney isn't Tom, he won't be holed up in the city, hoping that someone else will solve his problems. No matter how scary and painful it is, Sidney is going to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is a bit tedious and full of Sidney's self-delving, but it is a link to the upcoming events. So there is no way without it. This is life

As much as it was wonderful to spend time at Sanditon in a warm, homely atmosphere, surrounded by his nieces and nephews, Sidney knew he couldn't avoid London forever. He had business to attend to. His fiancee was waiting for him. And on September 8, he returned to London.

He had been so quiet and thoughtful at breakfast that morning that even Tom had noticed it and was once again worried about his health. But to his brother's direct question about his well-being, Sidney replied with a sad smile that all this was caused by anxiety about what was waiting for him in London. And though Sidney's mind was more on business, Tom's thoughts immediately turned to Eliza, as if he wasn't at all perplexed and outraged by her refusal to come to Sanditon during her brother's illness just a couple of weeks ago. 

Tom's speculations about Sidney's desire to be reunited with the bride were irritating and gave him a headache, as if the words "bride" and "Eliza" in the same sentence were shorting out the processes in his brain. And so Sidney was grateful that Mary had turned the subject to Georgiana's move to London, though he didn't know that her aspirations were far from caring for him: all Mary cared about at that moment was Tom's dangerous proximity to the mention of Charlotte and her role in Sidney's recovery. So one uncomfortable topic was replaced by another, and Sidney unknowingly became one step further from the truth. And he had misinterpreted Mary's guilty glance in his direction as an apology for his brother's garrulity. 

Sidney arrived in London in a carriage and immediately ordered it to be prepared for the return journey tomorrow morning. Georgiana was due to be delivered to the capital by the weekend. 

Sidney didn't know if Georgiana's plan would work, but as her guardian, he had to make sure she got a decent reception in Bedford Place and went out soon. So, having arranged for Miss Lamb's room to be prepared, he went wearily upstairs and changed his clothes.

The familiar bedroom seemed alien to him at that moment. The walls pressed down and the space closed in around them. The comfortable and comfortable furniture that had made up the room and served for many years now seemed superfluous and wrong. And before he knew it, he found himself with an oak chest of drawers in the middle of the bedroom, buried in the wrinkled carpet, the chest of drawers not moving. His body was begging for action, but physical activity was all he was capable of right now. 

Pulling at the knot of his tie and running his hands through his hair, Sidney cursed, walked around the wooden statue and fell across the bed in anger and impotence. He can move or change the furniture as much as he wants, but the feeling that he will not return home again. Without HER in his life. And with his jaw clenched tight, he continued to hold his head in his hands, staring at the ceiling. His breathing gradually recovered, he closed his eyes and did not notice how he fell asleep. 

When the master did not come down for dinner, the servants realized that he was tired from the journey. But it was getting dark outside, and Mr. Parker was still upstairs. The London house did not know the details, but it was aware that the owner had been ill for quite some time and had been recovering in Sanditon for almost a month. What if something happened to him again? And this time the footman was forced to knock on the door more insistently.

A narrow beam of light pierced the dark room and hit Sidney right in the face. He grimaced, said something unintelligible, and sat up in surprise: he was still wearing his vest, trousers, and boots. So he's been lying on his back in bed for half a day. In clothes. When was the last time this happened to him? Long ago. And he was definitely not sober at the time. 

He shook his head, trying to shake off sleep, and asked the footman a question in a hoarse voice:

"What time is it?"

"Half-past seven, sir," the footman said, pausing on the threshold. "Will you have dinner served?"

"Yes, please. Perhaps that would be appropriate"

As soon as the door closed behind the footman, Sidney fell back on the bed. There was no desire to eat. But he won't come to his senses until his life is back on track. He stood up abruptly and went to the dressing table to refresh himself, but in the dark his knee invariably met the oak chest of drawers in the middle of the way. Cursing and blaming no one but himself, he slammed his fist down on the countertop, trying to numb the pain, and then slid down the side of the dresser and sat on the floor, leaning back. Everything in his life was like this now. He wandered in the dark and ran into obstacles that he had foolishly placed on the road. 

But this is not the time to feel sorry for yourself! How will he correct the situation if he indulges in despondency?

It only took a minute with my eyes closed to focus. He got up abruptly, walked around the dresser, and reached the dressing table without hindrance. The water had long since cooled. And that was good for him. The cool spray was invigorating, rolling down his chest and back, trickling down his collar. 

He checked the cuffs and collar of his shirt in the dark, went through the row of buttons and straightened his waistcoat, and intuitively tied a fresh tie around his neck. He won't give up. He can handle it. He will be strong!

Dinner alone was a quick one, even though he hovered over his plate at times with the appliances. He wasn't hungry, but he would need his strength. And Sidney obediently ate everything that was offered, although he could not say with certainty what it was.

He refused alcohol and drank only strong tea. He needs a clear head tonight, because he needs to sort out the mail that has accumulated over the past month, and also write a few letters, informing his friends and business partners about his return. 

The study greeted him with a lighted fireplace and carefully placed candles. Just as he likes it. Or did he love her? He felt different now. Even his own office, where he spent more time than in any other room in Bedford Place, felt alien again. It's too bright. And he extinguished a few candles in the well-shaded study and sank into a deep chair near the fireplace. And it's too cold. And another log flew into the fireplace. 

And looking at the flames, which reluctantly licked the surface of the dry wood, as if uncertainly tasting it, Sidney calmed down and sank into himself. The myriad hues of flame from red, yellow, blue, and even gold brought his thoughts to the ball that now seemed so far away. And at that moment, he thought he could see the burning image of Charlotte inside the fireplace. She wore a gold dress and had fathomless eyes that looked like strong tea in the candlelight. Such a native, warm, beloved and homely… 

And as if teasing all his thoughts and feelings, he heard the sound of a violin playing outside the window. The simple, simple melody, which he would not have paid attention to in a different state, this time touched him to the soul. 

Sidney got up and walked slowly, as if in a dream, to the window. A young boy of about 14 with a violin under his chin wielded a bow, stepping on the sidewalk with small uneven steps, more distracted by the instrument than by the road. He played the passage over and over, as if trying to find the right key or fill in the melody without notes in front of his eyes, or maybe just absorbing the music in a rush of inspiration. And Sidney smiled at him sincerely. He followed the small figure to the corner and stood leaning against the window for a while, noticing how the sounds of the music receded further and further away and became completely inaudible. Only then did he sigh, pull down the curtains, go to the desk, and start sorting through the letters. 

Letters for a month and really accumulated a lot. Lots of notes from partners, contracts to go through first thing tomorrow morning, bills... fortunately, there weren't many letters from Eliza. Only 2. And both are about the same content. Notifications of invitations to a party and a ball, dated August. Well, he would have to meet Elise tomorrow. He wrote her a brief note of his return, hastily sealed it, and placed it on a tray to be sent the next morning.

After sorting out the letters, he carefully extinguished the fire and the candles in the study, and sat for some time alone in complete darkness. It was only as he went upstairs with a single candle in his hand and watched the flickering light illuminate his way up that he finally accepted the fact that he was home in London. Native walls, but not filled with the content of love, happiness, trust and affection. It was as if they were trying to insert a new portrait into an old frame that was not the right size, but beautiful…

___

On the morning of September 9, Sidney, obeying the accepted routine, woke up quite early. 

He ate a hearty breakfast and worked fruitfully in the office with the contracts, before a stately messenger arrived at the house with a letter from Mrs. Campion. The note said that Eliza was expecting him in her living room at 4:00 p.m. today. Well, he'll be there at the appointed hour. And he would stoutly avoid talking about the wedding until Georgiana arrived. 

Recalling all the events of their previous meetings, Sidney suddenly realized that the last time he had seen Eliza was exactly a month ago, on August 9. On the night of the 9th and 10th of August, after the reception at Lady Desmore's, he had left Mrs. Campion at her house, spent a night of doubt, and yet, unable to stand it, had ridden Mercury before dawn and sped off to Sanditon to meet his fate. Even now, the date of his farewell to Charlotte on the cliff was more important to him than the day he had last seen his fiancee. Still, he was ironically aware of how steadfastly and indifferently he had endured the separation from Eliza for a month. It was to be hoped that Mrs. Campion was equally philosophical about the separation, and would not insist on increasing the frequency of their meetings. 

In fact, from the moment of their engagement, their relationship with Mrs. Campion had been very formal. Three official meetings a week, two of which were joint appearances. That was more than enough for him. And in between events, he received a couple of times a week from her silly "tender" messages, full of phrases and cliches accepted in society, which he would gladly leave unanswered. And every weekend, he was grateful that they belonged to different parishes and he didn't have to accompany her to church as well.  
He would have been happy if their schedule had not changed after his return, but he would have been happy if the number of meetings could have been further reduced. The season is over. The aristocrats are leaving London. The number of events is decreasing. Can this be an excuse to reduce the number of weekly visits? Or will he have to hide behind business and the necessary attention to his ward? All this tormented him, and he felt a sense of guilt, trying to save himself from the attention of the woman who was going to be his wife. 

Although he arrived at Eliza's luxurious home at the appointed hour, he was informed that the hostess was still ready, and was kindly shown into the spacious living room. And it was at least a quarter of an hour before he heard the clatter of hurried claws on the parquet floor through the open door. Eliza's lapdogs.

Sidney loved dogs. But not THESE ONES. The white woolen clouds that follow Eliza's footsteps are always covered in lace and ribbons. They eagerly ask for her affection and attention, jealously guarding their territory and fussily wagging their tail. It seemed that it was only with these brainless creatures that Eliza was truly gentle, rewarding a gentle word or a kiss on the nose for a well-executed trick or a cute pose.

He felt exactly the same way. Not now, but ten years ago. And the memory of the old fervor now seemed humiliating. How could he be so wrong? But before his thoughts could wander back into the past, and a frown creased the space between his brows, Eliza floated into the room with her two beloved dogs.

"Well, hello, Sydney! I'm glad you're all right. I knew your brother Tom was exaggerating…"

A formal bow, a smile, and a soulless touch of the lips to the hostess's hand completed the greeting.

"You left so suddenly that I didn't know what to think! So many missed events and opportunities, Sidney! I hope you will behave more sensibly in the future" the widow scolded him.

"Mrs. Campion, I have urgent business to attend to at Sanditon. And believe me, the disease was not part of my plans. The situation was really serious. I might not have survived. But everything went well. Thanks to the efforts of Dr. Fuchs and ... Mary. However, let's not talk about sad things. What did I miss during my absence?" Sidney knew that it was better to let Mrs. Campion talk than to try to appeal to her feelings and generosity. 

Eliza was glad to take the bait, and gave a detailed account of the idle gossip that ran in London. To his surprise, Sidney found that the Sanditon fire was still being discussed, and the sympathy of many members of the public, as well as the interest in investing in the city, against the background of Lady Worcester's kind comments, gave him some hope. 

Lady Worcester is a lady Sidney has never included in his equation. But perhaps in vain. It was the centrifugal force of the beau monde and had a significant impact on the public consciousness and movement. Her foresight and intelligence carried the torch of her fame far ahead of the lady herself. And the fact that she had seen Charlotte's potential from one brief acquaintance was also an important factor for the infatuated Sidney. But the degree of familiarity between Lady Worcester and Charlotte was also alarming. Would he be able to turn to her for advice and help, knowing that she was probably aware of his failure and Charlotte's broken heart? Well, that's something to think about. Time will tell. In the meantime, we need to make sure that in the near future a meeting with the formidable lady is even possible. 

"What upcoming events are you planning to attend?" Sidney asked unobtrusively, turning over the porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece and wincing at the abundance of colorful shepherdesses. "I know that the lords and ladies go to their country estates"

"Yes, it is. Most of the important people have already left the city or are planning to do so in the near future. But the invitations are still coming in: social life has slowed down a bit, but it hasn't dried up yet"

"Do you need my help in escorting you soon?" his voice didn't falter at the imposition of his services, but he stumbled a little in the middle of the sentence, trying to shake one of the dogs off his leg.

"Oh, Sidney! Not this week, I'm afraid. The responses have already been sent. But I got an invitation to Mrs. Bosworth's birthday party today, and I haven't sent a reply yet. I'll be happy to write to her that it'll be just the two of us."

"Yes, I am ready to accompany you. But I must warn you that my time will be limited from next week. My ward, Miss Lamb, is moving to London."

"Oh, I see. But this is somewhat unexpected. I think the fresh breeze of Sanditon is much more useful to a young heiress than the London air."

"Maybe. But it is my duty as a guardian to ensure her entry into society. The season at Sanditon is over. Miss Lamb won't be able to find any more entertainment there. And knowing her active nature, I am afraid that boredom may push her to seek adventure on her own. And it's not safe. No, I'd feel better if Georgiana was in London under my care." 

Eliza was obviously upset by the latest news – she wasn't ready to share her fiance's attention with anyone, but she didn't show it, just forced a dry smile and shifted her focus to the two dogs at her feet. 

Sidney glanced at his watch and realized that the time for the visit was over. He bowed politely, and left Mrs. Campion's stuffy house with a sense of freedom and pleasure. 

Back in Bedford Place, still preoccupied with thoughts of Georgiana and her comfort, he went up to the room assigned to her to see if everything was available. Not so well versed in women's paraphernalia, he glanced around the room and came to the conclusion that everything was in order. But when he left the room and went to his wing to change for dinner, he still lingered at the next room, where Charlotte had previously stayed.

Timidly opening the door, as if invading someone's realm, he looked around at the walls and furniture. Muted colors. Sunny side. The room was warm and cozy, as if it had just been abandoned and the trace of another person's presence was still there. Or was it his imagination playing games with him? Like back in Sanditon, when he thought Charlotte was in his room. 

He sat in the guest room chair for a long time – it was already getting dark and the servants were busy lighting candles and checking the fires in the empty rooms according to instructions. When the maid entered the room, she was startled by a movement in the corner.

"Mr. Parker! I'm sorry, you startled me. Does this room also need to be prepared?"

"No. Not yet" Sidney said, embarrassed. "I was just wondering if Miss Lamb would be more comfortable here"

"So you want us to prepare this room for Miss Lamb?"

"No, you shouldn't. I think Miss Heywood may need this room again if Georgiana decides to invite her friend to London." He said it in an even tone, though he didn't know where the thought had come from. Charlotte was clearly offended and displeased with him. Why on earth would she come to London and stay in this house? 

But a loving heart always does not act logically, and at that moment it seemed quite a sound idea. And Sidney took hold of her and cherished her until the dead of night, when he fell asleep with a smile on his lips, imagining that Charlotte was next to him, in the next room. And his heart fluttered with joy, as if the chained prisoner had finally been shown a piece of the sky and the sun through the bars in the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think that after a month of separation, Mrs. Campion will strengthen her grip, or has she grown sufficiently unaccustomed to Sidney to insist on his frequent presence?


End file.
